Blog Design by:

2.25.2008

I miss my family like crazy - my mom, in particular – this I think we have established. And being that it was basically just my mom, my brother and I growing up, I feel especially protective of them both (but mostly just my mom, since my brother has a tendency to be an obnoxious poohead).

So I am talking to my mom this evening and she’s telling me about her “crazy” week at work last week. As a little sidenote for those of you who don’t know me personally, my mom is a homicide detective, so “crazy” weeks tend to be par for the course.

Anyhoo, her crazy week consisted of a homicide on Wednesday (man was carrying his two year old daughter down the street, car pulls up, suspect jumps out, shoots the man point blank, baby is dropped but okay, man dies later at the hospital). As much as that sounds like a crazy day in the 9 to 5 work life of me, I suppose that’s just another day on the job for mi madre. But worry not, it gets crazier.

So some woman snatches this baby who fell when the dude got shot and takes off. No one knows who or where she is until she shows up at a hospital hours later, saying that her baby is acting funny and not mentioning the – oh, I don’t know – DEAD MAN WHO WAS HOLDING HER WHEN SHE GOT DROPPED ON THE SIDEWALK!

So little Miss Not-So-Good-With-the-Details turns out to be the baby’s mother and somehow this is all connected to a very prominent gang in my old neighborhood (I don’t think I told y’all yet that I was hood. That was coming in Facts #21-30.)

So the gang unit for the police department tracks down these vile, villainous, murderous, almost-baby-hurters – one of the geniuses has a handgun and the other one has an AK-47 – and what do they do when they see the cops? They start shooting, of course.

Now let me tell you a little something about the police (trust me, I have insider experience here). They don’t like it when you try to kill them. It’s SO weird, but they’re just funny like that. In my vast experience with them, it never goes over well. Go figure.

So this little sitcha-ation, something the coppers like to call an “officer-involved shooting”, does not end up quite like Gangsta #1 and Gangsta #2 anticipated, being that one of them got arrested and the other one got…dead.

Great news, right? At least for us crime-free, baby-lovin’ folk.

Not so much.

Because the police dared to kill a member of this gang – one of their “homeboys” as my mother so adorably refers to them – this group of hooligans has “declared war” on the police station at which my mother resides.

First of all, let’s address their terminology. Yes, that’s right, they “declared war”. Really, homeboys? Really?! I don’t want to be quick to judge though. Their cause could be just – I’ve heard my mom’s station has nuclear weapons.

Secondly, let’s address the fact that I am now fucking terrified for my mother’s life. Seriously, I have been trying to sit here and get work done for my actual job tomorrow, and all I can think about is how some tatted-up fuckerface is going to try and hurt my mom because another cop defended his own life by shooting up some other tatted-up fuckerface who had already killed someone else before his own death!

I ask my mom: “So are you in any real danger right now?”

M: “Well, I suppose I have to be more on my guard now. I mean, you know how the station is - anyone can just pull into the backlot at any time and the backdoor is pretty much always propped open. They haven’t really increased security much.”

“So you guys don’t think they’ll be stupid enough to do anything to the station then?”

M: “Not necessarily. I was just telling my partner the other day how they could walk into the lot at night, put a bomb under one of these cars and take out the whole station.”

“SO, UM, HOW EXACTLY ARE YOU STAYING SAFE?!”

M: “I just watch my back. Make sure no one follows me home at night. You know…I’m just careful. It’s a pretty scary time at work right now.”

And that was it.

Thanks, mom. It’ll be really fun trying to fall asleep at night and, oh I don’t know, live life as usual for the next five years (that’s at least how long these “declared wars” last, right?)

Of course, I immediately told her that I would really appreciate it if she transferred stations. She said she couldn’t because of some bulhooey about loving her job.

Fuck. That. Shit. Besides the obvious fact that I tend to be a selfish human being, I don’t think I could ever love a job enough to literally risk my life just going to work.

The moral of the story is: don’t let your parent pursue work in the police and/or firefighter industry (I’ve heard that’s a dangerous one too). I am now terrified for my mother’s life and even more worried that I am wasting away precious time up here while my family (and a good number of my closest friends!) are all hours away, next to some AK-47 wielding hoodlums.

Sweet. That was a great end to my Monday.

In other, not quite-so-dramatic news, my oh-so-informed younger brother tells me that Huckabee (some Republican presidential candidate; I think his first name is Mike) will appoint Chuck Norris as his Secretary of Defense if he is elected president. Oh and my brother added that he will be voting for Mr. Huckabee for abovementioned reason.

This is stupid for two reasons. First of all, my brother is not even seventeen yet. He obviously cannot vote, though I tend to think he legitimately feels he will cast his vote for (Mike?) Huckabee in the next presidential election. Also, is it even possible for this Huckabee character to make Chuck Norris his Secretary of Defense? Are there NO qualifications for such an undertaking? If not, then that, in itself, is Stupid Reason #2.